by Cynthia Eden
The wide doors swung open behind her. A doctor appeared—the doctor who’d been checking out Jennifer. When he saw Brodie, the man nodded.
Brodie gave up his post near the nurse. “I want to see her,” he told the doctor flatly.
The doc nodded. “Right...and she wants to see you, too.” He cleared his throat. “She is also rather adamantly insisting that she be released. I can’t keep her here, but I think the woman needs—”
The door opened again. Jennifer was there, wearing a hospital gown, a bandage on her forehead and a very determined-looking expression on her face.
Brodie pretty much jumped toward her. “What are you doing?” And he pulled her against him, holding her carefully. “You aren’t supposed to be walking around out here!”
“They took my clothes, so I had to come out like this.” She sounded disgruntled. “Why’d they take my clothes?”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Uh, miss, your clothes were taken because they were covered in blood and ash. We bagged them for you—”
Jennifer turned in Brodie’s arms. “Please take me out of here,” she whispered to him. “He could come for me here. I’m not safe.” Her voice didn’t carry past him.
He tensed against her. Davis had been attacked in the same hospital. The attack had come when Davis was trying to protect Grant’s fiancée...only Scarlett hadn’t been his fiancée back then. Scarlett had been lured away from Grant’s bedside. Davis had tried to guard her, but he’d been shot.
He was bleeding out in front of me.
That hospital held far too many bad memories for Brodie. And Jennifer was right—the security at that place left a whole hell of a lot to be desired.
But with her concussion...
He glanced at the doctor. The man sighed. “She can leave. But keep her monitored, you understand? If she sleeps, wake her up every two hours to assess her condition. If you see her exhibiting any signs of confusion or if her nausea gets worse, contact the hospital immediately.” He frowned at Jennifer. “I would feel better if you stayed for observation but—”
“There’s no way I’m staying,” she said. Her hold tightened on Brodie. “Please, just get me out of here.”
His gaze held the doctor’s for a moment longer.
“When you check on her, ask her name,” the doctor added. “Review her vitals. Even if she’s progressing well, I want her brought back in within twenty-four hours so that I can assess her once more.”
“Anything else?” Brodie asked.
“Take care of her,” the doctor said, then nodded, giving the all clear.
“Always,” Brodie promised. Then he bent his head toward Jennifer. “On our way, sweetheart,” Brodie whispered as he lifted her into his arms. He held her carefully, cradling her as he walked past the nurses’ station.
“You take good care of your fiancée!” the nurse called after him.
Jennifer stirred a bit in Brodie’s arms. They slipped into the elevator, and when those doors closed, Jennifer peeked up at him from beneath her long lashes. “I’ve got a bump on my head and a scratch on my shoulder. I can walk.”
“And I can carry you.” He liked holding her. “So let me.”
Her breath sighed out and blew lightly against his throat. “I’m your fiancée?” she asked softly. “I don’t remember you proposing.”
Despite everything that was happening, his lips almost twitched. “Probably your concussion,” he told her. “I’ve heard those can make folks forget things.”
She laughed then. A sweet, light sound that made his chest feel funny. He pulled her even closer against him. When the elevator doors opened into the parking garage, he carried her back to his SUV.
He put her down long enough to do a sweep of the vehicle—the last thing he wanted was another explosion; then he settled her inside, adjusting her gown, and he realized... She doesn’t have shoes on!
His laughter came then, unexpected. Rough. Relieved...She’s alive. She’s safe...with me.
He shut her door and hurried around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. His door slammed behind him, and Brodie reached out to start the SUV, but Jennifer’s hand closed around his.
“He got away, didn’t he?”
His head turned toward her. The laughter had faded completely as the fear came back. He wasn’t used to fear, and the emotion made him angry. “For now.”
She gave a little nod. “He’ll be back. He won’t stop.”
No, Brodie didn’t think he would stop. Not until the guy had gotten what he wanted.
And what he wanted...that was Jennifer.
“Don’t take me back to the ranch,” she whispered. “He’ll strike there next. He could go after your stables or your house and—”
“The security we have is too good. That’s why he hit the Montgomery ranch. He wanted to draw you out. To make you vulnerable.” He cranked the SUV and drove them away from the hospital. “Our ranch is the best place for you.”
“Not if I’m putting a target on your home.”
The stalker’s words played through Brodie’s mind. I’ll destroy your family. “This whole thing is personal,” Brodie said. “He knows you.”
“Almost intimately,” she whispered.
His gaze shot to her. “What?” Now the fear was totally overpowered by the fury pumping through him.
She rubbed her eyes. “That’s what he told me... That we almost knew each other intimately.”
“I asked you about former lovers—”
“He wasn’t my lover.” Her voice was adamant. “But...I knew his voice... It was so familiar.” Her hand fell to her lap. “I just have to remember him. I have to remember who he is. Then I can understand why he hates me so much. Why he wants to hurt me.”
But he didn’t want to just hurt Jennifer. Brodie knew the man out there wanted to kill her.
And I won’t let that happen.
* * *
THE MCGUIRE RANCH rose before her. The gates were imposing. The house a strong, solid structure against the night.
Brodie opened her door. Offered her his hand. She started to slide down to the ground, but he caught her and lifted Jennifer up against him.
“I think we covered this,” she whispered as her hands curled around his neck. “I really am quite good at walking.” And she’d had much worse injuries over the years. The slice on her shoulder hadn’t even required stitches.
Ignoring her words, Brodie carried her into the house. He checked the security system. Then, still holding her, he took her down the hallway.
He didn’t go to the guest room.
Brodie carried her inside his room.
“Brodie?”
“The doctor said I should wake you every two hours.” He lowered her onto the bed. “This way, I can keep you close. It will be easier for me to check you here.”
She sat up quickly. The paper gown rasped over her skin. “I can stay in the other room. I don’t even have to sleep.”
He stared down at her. “You’re afraid to stay with me.”
She shook her head.
He turned away. Reached into a drawer and pulled out a T-shirt. “You want to change into this? You’ll be more comfortable.” His voice was carefully emotionless as he brought the shirt toward her.
She reached for the shirt.
His gaze slid over her. She felt that caress like a touch. I want his touch. She always did.
Her fingers curled into the fabric. “You’re going to...to turn away while I change, right?”
His lips quirked. Those sexy dimples of his almost flashed. “Why would I do that?” One dark brow lifted.
She felt heat stain her cheeks. She should really be past the blushing stage, but with him, she wasn’t. “Brodie...”
Sighing, he turned away from her, giving her the broad expanse of his back.
Jennifer fumbled and got rid of that horrible paper gown, and she slid on his soft T-shirt. She’d worn his shirt before, and, well, she liked wearing his clothes. Like
the previous shirt, this one smelled of him. That rich, masculine scent. She tugged down the hem of the shirt. It came all the way to her thighs and—
“Can I turn around now?”
“Yes.” Why was her voice so shaky? She’d faced off against killers. She’d sent countless criminals to jail. She shouldn’t be nervously stuttering just because she was in Brodie McGuire’s bed.
But she was.
Get a grip, woman.
He yanked off the shirt he’d been wearing and tossed it aside. His shoes followed. As he turned toward her, Brodie’s hands went to his belt.
So did her gaze.
“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to turn away,” he murmured.
Her eyes snapped right back to his face. “What are you doing?”
Those dimples of his definitely flashed then. “Getting undressed so that I can get into bed with you.”
“I think that’s a bad idea.” But her words sounded husky and inviting—definitely not her plan—and her tone sure implied she thought he’d just told her the best idea ever.
His hands stilled. “I’m not going to make love to you.”
Now she was fisting her hands around the sheets. Is that how he thought of it? As making love with her? She hadn’t realized—
“Not while you’re hurt.” He kicked his jeans aside to reveal a sexy pair of boxers that rode low on his hips. “But as soon as you’re better, sweetheart, you will be mine again.”
Her gaze was back to raking over him. He had the best physique that she’d ever seen. So strong and muscled. Powerful.
He was also climbing into bed with her. Jennifer shook her head. “Davis will come home soon.” She figured the guy had to turn up sooner or later. “If I’m in here with you in the morning, he’ll think we were...together.”
Brodie laughed at that. “We have been together.”
That wasn’t what she’d meant.
“And, besides,” Brodie added as the back of his hand slid down her cheek in a brief caress, “I don’t really care what Davis thinks about the two of us. As long as he knows that he needs to keep his hands off you, I’m fine.”
He leaned over her. Jennifer stopped breathing as she stared into his eyes.
“Relax,” Brodie whispered. “I’m just turning off the light.” His fingers flicked the switch on the lamp. The room plunged into darkness.
Then he slid back to his side of the bed. Jennifer gingerly lowered herself down fully on the mattress. Despite her exhaustion, adrenaline still pumped through her. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily, so Brodie didn’t exactly have to worry about that whole waking-every-two-hours routine that the doctor had prescribed.
Her head brushed against the pillow. In the dark, she found it was easier to talk with him. “You saved me again.”
The sheets rustled. Had he turned to stare at her? He wouldn’t be able to see much of her in that sheltering darkness.
“He wanted to take me away to torture me.” Fear was there now, and it wouldn’t go away, not until they caught her stalker. “He doesn’t plan to make my death easy.”
His arm curled around her stomach. He had turned toward her in the dark. His touch made her feel safer.
“I don’t care what he has planned,” Brodie muttered. “He’s not hurting you again.”
If Brodie hadn’t heard her screams, the stalker would be hurting her right then. Instead, she was safe in Brodie’s arms. He pulled her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. It felt...strangely right to be there with him.
“Tell me who you were...” His voice seemed to rumble all around her. “Before you became Jennifer Wesley.”
“I was lost.” That was the way she’d always thought of herself. “My parents died when I was just a kid. A drunk driver hit them.” And they’d just been...gone. “I was ten, angry with the world and hurting all the time.” The social workers had said she was acting out each time she got in trouble. They’d told her that if she wanted a real family, she had to show how good she could be.
But she’d already had a real family. A family that had been stolen from her.
“I bounced around the foster system for a while. Back then, I had a rule about getting close to people.”
“A rule?”
“Yes. The rule was...never get close.” That was the same rule she’d lived by when she worked for the government. And that rule had slowly become a way of life for her.
Never get close. Because when people got too close, you became vulnerable. You needed them, and you...you hurt when they left.
There were only two people who’d ever made Jennifer break her rule. Slowly, over time, she’d softened toward Nate. Maybe she’d even started to see him as the father she’d lost.
And...
She’d let Brodie get close. So very close.
“Who were you back then? Tell me your name.”
Her breath slid out on a soft sigh. “Jennifer Belmont. Jenny.” Little Jenny Belmont from Florence, Idaho. “No one really knew me there.” Sometimes, she’d felt invisible in that town. “So when I vanished and became someone else... Well, there wasn’t exactly anyone around to care.” That was precisely why the US government had recruited her for the job.
Too late, she’d learned that she was one of the expendable ones. If she’d died on one of the missions, if she’d been killed on foreign land, then there would have been no outcry from desperate family members and friends. There would have been...nothing.
And that was why Brodie’s rescue had surprised her so much. She’d given up hope by the time he came for her.
Then he’d brought that hope right back to her.
“What did Jenny Belmont like to do?”
Had she just felt him press a kiss to her temple? She wasn’t sure. “She...liked to read, a lot.” Because that had been her escape. “She rode horses when she could. When she saved up enough money to go for a ride at the local stables.” She’d felt so free when she raced on those horses. “Her mother had loved horses, so she liked them, too. It made her feel close to—”
“You.”
“What?”
“You keep referring to your younger self as ‘she’ as if Jenny is a separate person from you.”
Didn’t he realize? She was. Jenny Belmont was a lifetime away from Jennifer Wesley.
“You liked to read. You loved to ride horses. That’s still you, deep inside. Jenny Belmont didn’t die, no matter what those government suits might have wanted you to believe.” His fingers slid down, pressed over her heart. Her heart was galloping like mad beneath his touch. “Inside, it’s just...you.”
She was glad they were in the dark. Jennifer didn’t want him seeing her tears. “What about you?” Jennifer whispered. “Will you tell me what Brodie McGuire was like...before he became a SEAL?” His hand was still over her heart, but he adjusted their bodies, cradling her against him.
“I was a hell-raiser.”
What?
“Always getting into trouble. Always messing with Davis. I’ve given him hell all my life, but he’s always there for me. So are all my brothers. So is Ava.”
She pressed closer to him. “I kind of pictured you as the quarterback...maybe homecoming king...”
He laughed. She realized she loved the rough sound of his laughter.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “I was too busy racing my horse and raising hell for that. I lived for danger back then—”
“You still do,” she pointed out. “It’s not like SEALs live the safe and easy life.”
“No.” His hand stroked over her hair. “But I became a SEAL to make a difference. I grew up and wanted to do more.”
Like save a stranger from death.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” she told him. “So sorry.” She’d liked his mother. Brodie had her smile. The woman had been so kind but...
There was fear in her eyes when we met.
Jennifer didn’t tell Brodie that. Not then. He kept stroking her hair.
; Her eyes drifted closed.
“I dreamed about you...”
She was almost asleep when she heard his soft words.
“And I wished so many damn times that I hadn’t just let you walk away from me...”
She felt the press of his lips against her temple once more.
“I won’t make that mistake again.”
Chapter Seven
“Jennifer, wake up.” The voice was deep and rumbling, sexy and dark.
Her eyelids slowly lifted.
“Do you know who I am?”
She stared into the most gorgeous green eyes she’d ever seen. “I dreamed about you, too...”
He frowned at her. “Who am I?”
“Brodie.” Her lips curled. She lifted her arms, looping them around his neck. “In my dreams, you didn’t let me walk away.”
Right then, it was hard to separate her dreams from reality.
“Kiss me?” Jennifer whispered.
“Sweetheart, I’m supposed to be checking—”
She pulled him toward her. He pressed his lips to hers.
Not a dream.
Her mouth opened beneath his, and his tongue slid past her lips. She pressed closer to him, wanting more, as her body seemed to ignite from the kiss.
One kiss shouldn’t make her body quiver. It shouldn’t make need, desire, grow—hot and dark and fast—within her. But it did. Because that was what he did to her.
“Jennifer.” Her name was a growl of desire. “Not yet...The doctor said I had to take care of you.”
She knew how he could take care of her. How she could take care of him.
He kissed her again. “Not yet...”
She stared into his gaze. Sunlight trickled through the blinds, and she could easily see the desire on his face.
“But soon,” Brodie added, voice a bit ragged, “I’ll take what we both want.”
“Promises, promises,” Jennifer whispered before she drifted to sleep once more.
* * *
BRODIE WATCHED HER SLEEP. He’d been checking on her every two hours.
He brushed back her hair. She murmured something in her sleep. Brodie leaned closer to her. “What? Jennifer, what did you—”
“Stay with me.”
His chest ached at those words. “I am. I will.” He wasn’t about to let her face the danger alone.